reproach her with the indecorous fault she has committed. In no instance have I ever known it productive of happiness: but in some instances it brings on calamities of such deep aggravation, that it becomes the instigator of crimes for which there is no atonement. In proof of what I say, I will recount an event which occurred in Radnorshire many years before I was born, nay, before my father and mother were born: but it happened in a family with which we were all acquainted, and in which the direful misfortune was handed down from father to son, through all the generations which have passed away since that time; and it was told to me by one of the descendents.

A gentleman in the neighbourhood of Presteign had among other children a daughter, whom the son of another Welch gentleman requested in marriage. There was every reason to justify her father in refusing his consent to the alliance: But the greatest objections were the licentious riot in which the young man wasted his days, and the dissipated idleness which destroyed all hope of domestic happiness. He however continued his visits and attentions to the young lady, on whose affection, notwithstanding her father's remonstrances and representations, he had a very pow erful sway. He was at length peremptorily for

bidden the house: yet, though the girl was watched, she contrived to correspond with him, and they agreed that on a certain night he should come attended by some of his friends and carry her off.

When the time arrived, the youth with his assistants came according to appointment, determined that nothing should prevent the accomplishment of their scheme. The signal was given, and heard, not only by the young lady, but by the family. She came forth at that gate of her father's mansion whence it had been settled that she should escape, and the young man received her. They were immediately followed by the father and his eldest son, attended by several servants. When there appeared to be no chance of bearing away his prize, he turned upon his pursuers, and saying "I am armed, and none shall make a rescue," fired. The victim of his rashness was her father. He fell and instantly expired. A dreadful shriek from his son, and the wild exclamation, "O he has killed my father," compelled them all to flee; and quitting the wretched cause of all his woes, whom he had taken in his arms the moment after he had fired, the desperate young man left her alone to weep for ever over the ashes of a parent whom her folly had brought to an untimely grave.

Though

She was taken home by her brother. the cause, not the perpetrator of the fatal act, it may well be supposed that remorse embittered all her days, and that she must ever have considered herself to be a parricide. To add to the anguish of her mind, and encrease the poignancy of her sufferings, the hapless youth was pursued and overtaken; confined, tried, condemned, and executed; and according to the barbarous custom then in practice, hung in chains near the spot where he committed the rash deed. He perished piecemeal, and his bones whitened in the blast; a hideous spectacle to all around, and chiefly to his mistress. To her aching and weeping eyes he was a perpetual remembrancer of despair and grief; and to her terrified ears the rattling chains sounded a perpetual knell.

LASTING BENEVOLENCE.

THERE is an old story, so old indeed, that perhaps I ought not to introduce it here. Yet, as it is probable, that although it may have been long known to many, there are still many to whom it may be new, I hope that I shall be pardoned for drawing it forth from among the collection of anecdotes and transcriptions, which almost ever since I could guide a pen, I have been in the habit of adding to the stores of my Scrinium.

It occurred at the time when the Oracle of Apollo at Delphi was supposed to be the voice of Futurity; and was therefore consulted by all nations as the never-failing Truth of Prophecy.

Among others who resorted thither, two friends, who were carrying their offerings to the Delphic God, had advanced so far on their anxious journey, that from afar they beheld the lofty temple rise toward the azure skies from amid the laurel

grove with which it was surrounded. The blazing sun of noon shone full upon them; and the hot sands scorched their feet; at every step the rising dust scalded their eyes, and stuck to their parched lips. Overpowered by the heat of the dreary way, they with difficulty dragged their weary limbs along the dry path; when, after toiling many hours, they reached a plantation of high and tufted trees. They entered the deep gloom, and seated themselves on the green turf beneath their embowering shade. The loaded branches sunk to the very ground, surcharged with fruits of various kinds, and in the middle of the grove was a basin of the purest water. The stream from the spring passed near a tomb which was placed beneath many willows, whose drooping branches were entwined by the circling honeysuckle, and the clasping ivy. Their hearts blessed the bene factor who had planted the delightful retreat; and with feelings of religious awe they approached the tomb, wherein, as they imagined, his ashes reposed. They gently removed some of the balmy branches of the honeysuckle, and engraven on a stone they read the following lines:

"Here rest the ashes of Amyntas,

Whose life was one continued course of kindness.